


lights

by morino



Series: [ collection ] – cocktail [1]
Category: springwave
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: you are not a part of her everyday. just yesterday.[ miscellaneous verses; sunny/atlas ]





	

The room is too bright and you're playing with fire.

Her hand touches your thigh, accidentally on purpose, and is gone long before you have the chance to want to take her hand and remember that no, it is not yours to hold. Still, you do not get up, do not twitch, do not shift closer or further away; you are too busy memorising the lines of her smile. You are not the only one pulled in by it, blinded yet too memorised to look away. Maybe, you think, that's the reason why you're getting away with this.

Whatever 'this' is.

 

-

 

The room is too bright and she is the only source of light you would ever dare stare straight at.

When the ring is on her finger, it looks lavish, elegant, heavy; it is just as beautiful when it falls off your bedside table and onto the floor, and she laughs and laughs. Then her hands are on your thighs again, warm and almost familiar as they press into flesh.

"You sure you don't wanna get that?" You ask.

You can see it rolling until it falls onto its side. There's something engraved on the inside but you cannot make out the words. You imagine it's something as special as it is banal – their anniversary date, an inside joke short enough to wrap around a finger without overlap, their initials accompanied by a plus sign because they are no longer one and one but two, combined.

The lamp's light makes it hard to ignore that it's there. It won't melt into the ground, disappear into the shadows. For the first time, you have found something harder to tear your eyes from than her.

Her laugh is impossible to ignore, bubbly with an unabashed lack of guilt. You're not sure what she finds funnier – your question or knowing that for right now the two of you, one and one, are getting away with this.

"I have better things to worry about," her hands slide, press, fingers dig. Then her tongue is in your mouth.

You don't question it.

 

-

 

The room is too bright and for once, it burns. Your eyes, your exposed chest, your insides; a would be good morning, all other things considered. It's a terrible morning because you don't care for any of that if she is not at the center of it.

It's barely past five. You wonder if she gets up this early for her day to day. You wonder because her hands are pulling up the straps of her flowing dress, too far away to distract you like they did the night before. You wonder because you have been given room to breathe, to remember.

You are not a part of her everyday. Just yesterday.

"You know," her smile remains, pretty still, even when it's thrown over her shoulder, directed only at you. You remember how it tastes. "I had fun last night."

Your elbows anchor on a sinking mattress as you're held up by your arms, covers barely slipping further down your torso. Her eyes lock and she watches the covers move, gaze snapping to meet yours when you say, "yeah?"

A giggle. "Yeah."

The room is too bright, she is too bright, the band that is now around her finger is swallowed up by it. It tries to fight against it, peeks out when her hands tilts just right. And you?

"I'm free to have fun next weekend."

"Oh? Weird. Me too."

You allow this light, her light, to devour you.


End file.
